


"After every sunny day" aka A Gas Station Love Story

by birdisonmaximus



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shop AU except it's a gas station, Construction Worker Derek Hale, Gas Station, Human Stiles Stilinski, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, cashier stiles, my love for cars may have just slipped through on this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25964911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdisonmaximus/pseuds/birdisonmaximus
Summary: A simple love story featuring: gas ‘n sip cashier Stiles, construction worker Derek, high-vis, junk food, and one very creepy crow.--------Before he could stop himself, Stiles started, “Did you see the game last night?” And immediately cringed. He was never really able to control his mouth, was he?Hot Construction Man quirked an eyebrow, and wow, that was a look. Stiles needed to learn to shut up.“The Dodgers game, I mean.” Stiles tried to explain, “They played the other night, against the Mets, which is my team. I mean notmyteam, I obviously don’t own a baseball team because I work at a gas station and make like zero dollars an hour. Which you didn’t need to know, but yeah. I just thought- Because of your hat- You know what, nevermind. I’m shutting up now.”He sighed inwardly. Throughout this verbal tirade, HCM’s eyebrows had gone higher and higher, and now they sat pointedly on HCM’s beautiful forehead. If he was surprised or amused, Stiles couldn’t tell just yet.HCM shook his head and simply said, “Busy.”Stiles stifled the urge to smirk at his one word answer.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 28
Kudos: 202





	1. on the graveyard shift again

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written around the song “Evelyn” by Gregory Alan Isakov. I don’t know why, but every time I listened to that song, I just thought about Stiles working at a gas station.  
> Chapter titles come from the lyrics of that song! I own nothing!!
> 
> Maybe it’s just me //romanticizing everyday life// again, but yeah. I had to add Sterek because, well you know.  
> This is unbeta’d! All mistakes are mine and I accept that there are mistakes!! 
> 
> I do not own Teen Wolf nor do I own Gregory Alan Isakov’s music, even if it’s absolutely amazing.

Stiles was working the graveyard shift, again. It’s the third time this week he’d had to work 10 pm to 6am. The scheduler obviously had it out for him. He leant heavily against the counter by the register of the gas ‘n sip. 

He’d been working there for about a year, a part time gig he had to pick up when his graphic design career just hadn’t been panning out the way he wanted it to. Stiles had first moved out to L.A. to try and get in with any of the larger companies in the area. He had found very little luck with that and had to stick with smaller projects. He was still getting low level commissions every once and awhile from start-up companies trying to make a name for themselves in Silicon Valley, but he didn’t make enough to live as comfortably as he wanted to. L.A. was a busy city, and there weren’t a lot of entry level jobs available for someone with as little experience as Stiles. He’d applied for a lot of businesses on the edge of the city where he lived. Obviously it wasn’t a glamorous job, but the gas ‘n sip company had a nice entry wage and pretty decent hours for Stiles to pick up. He’d rather have been a barista or something else fancy, but at least he could buy food for himself and pay his rent.

A nice thing about the night shift is that there’s rarely any customers until the local bars close at 2. For some reason, they’re mostly college girls. After that, there’s very few people that come in til the morning, when the sun rises.

Without much to do the whole night, Stiles usually finished all his tasks before midnight; restocking and cleaning. Tonight was no different. After finishing his assigned shift duties, he argued the benefits of working on his own personal project at the gas station, designing a graphic to perfectly articulate his night shift. So far he had just been doodling on scratch paper during his shift, he had a little worker guy and a few z’s above his head. It was a work in progress, okay? He’s too tired to fix that mess so he didn’t get up to find his pen and paper.

Still leaning on the counter, he let himself sort of drift off for a while, falling asleep while standing up. It’s a talent he’d perfected while working these overnight shifts. Back in high school he was able to fall asleep anywhere, draped over hospital benches, on top of the printer in his room one time, 25 year old Stiles is no different. He had found himself asleep in the beverage cooler restocking energy drinks a few weeks ago. The irony didn’t fail to hit him when he woke up drooling on a can that said, ‘Taste the energy!’ But since he works the night shift alone, he didn’t feel too bad about his pseudo-narcoleptic habits. 

Being alone was both a blessing and a curse for him. It was a blessing because he could sleep and didn’t have to worry about anyone narcing on him, but a curse because he was stuck in his own head every night, with very little to distract him from racing thoughts and anxieties.

He thought he knew why he was scheduled all of these solo night time shifts. All other day time shifts were worked in doubles, and Stiles knew none of his coworkers particularly liked working with him. Stiles was annoying. He talked too much and was clumsy. He’d gotten better, but when he first started working he’d probably dropped $20 worth of snacks or drinks a day. Now it was only the occasional spill, he tried his best. His motormouth he had less control over, though. 

Point being, no one really wanted to work with him. He tried not to take too much offense to this, he knew he was an acquired taste. But apparently no one here wanted to stick around him long enough to get used to it. Whatever. Stiles was used to being by himself and had all his thoughts to keep himself company... And the bag of weed underneath the books in his back seat... But that was only for desperate times as an after work chill sesh. There were some kids that smoked down on first street, and they often came in to buy snacks and stuff. They had given him a really good deal and he wanted to accept their generosity, okay?

The bell rang signaling a customer walking through the door and Stiles was startled out of his self pity spiral. He quickly stood up straight, checking his watch. It was half past midnight and he sighed. Over 7 hours to go. Yay for him!

He looked to see who had entered and wasn't exactly surprised to see the bright yellow of a man wearing a high visibility vest and a backwards Dodgers cap. The guy turned away from Stiles, so he couldn’t see his face. The Dodgers guy walked towards the coffee machines. _Typical_ , Stiles thought.

Construction workers and people like that were some of his main customers. Gas stations were way better options for bathrooms than a port-a-potty and sold hot coffee and snacks, the big kicker was that they were usually open 24/7, unlike coffee shops. Also, you kind of got weird looks going into coffee shops wearing high visibility clothes. Stiles learned that a few years ago when he spent a summer moving furniture when he was in high school.

The high-vis guy got a cup of coffee and then turned around to walk towards the register checking his phone. When Stiles saw his face, he froze. The man was probably the hottest guy Stiles had ever seen in his entire life. And that’s saying a lot, he lived in LA. There’s dark hair curling slightly under the baseball cap, framing the man’s astoundingly symmetrical face. He’s got thick eyebrows and a nose like an arrow. A dark beard covered his chin and part of his neck, leading to broad shoulders and a tapered waist that Stiles would love to wrap his arms around. 

Stiles shook his head and swallowed, he had to screw his head on right before the guy caught him drooling on the linoleum flooring behind the counter. Stiles had seen hot guys before, this guy wasn’t any different- except for some reason he was. This man had got Stiles all caught up, and it’s been like 3 seconds. Whatever, he just had to get through this interaction, and then he could return to daydreaming. It might be a construction man flavored daydream, but that’s Stiles’ business.

The Hot Construction Guy(as Stiles has now dubbed him in his mind) set his coffee down without looking up from his phone. 

“Is this all, sir?” Stiles asked, trying to get through the usual spiel without stuttering on his words.

“No. I’ve got gas on pump 3,” HCM said, his voice wasn’t as low as Stiles expected it to be, with his gruff demeanor. His eyes were a piercing green-gold color, when he looked up from his phone to hand Stiles his credit card. When he saw Stiles he froze for a millisecond, barely noticeable to anyone else, but Stiles was raised by a cop, he’s observant as fuck. Hopefully he wasn’t startled by some drool on Stiles’ face or anything. He kind of didn’t have time to check over his appearance when the doorbell ringing woke him up. He quickly wiped his hand on his cheek to check, no drool.

Stiles tried not to get caught up in that micro-reaction, and finished ringing him up, taking the credit card with a hand that was definitely not shaking, no siree. “$34.89 is your total!” Stiles said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic, it’s not like gas and coffee were very interesting. He swiped the card and was about to hand it back when, before he could stop himself, he started, “Did you see the game last night?” And immediately cringed. Stiles was never really able to control his mouth, was he?

HCM quirked an eyebrow, and wow, that was a look. Stiles needed to learn to shut up.

“The Dodgers game, I mean.” Stiles tried to explain, “They played the other night, against the Mets, which is my team. I mean not _my_ team, I obviously don’t own a baseball team because I work at a gas station and make like zero dollars an hour. Which you didn’t need to know, but yeah. I just thought- Because of your hat- You know what, nevermind. I’m shutting up now.” He sighed inwardly.

Throughout this verbal tirade, HCM’s eyebrows had gone higher and higher, and now they sat steepled on HCM’s beautiful forehead. If he was surprised or amused Stiles couldn’t tell just yet.

HCM shook his head and simply said, “Busy.”

Stiles stifled the urge to smirk at his one word answer. “That’s too bad. It was really good. I watched it with my dad over facetime-” He bit his lip before he could continue and handed back the card quickly. 

HCM took it back with a quiet, “Thanks.” He put it back in his wallet

“Sorry for the verbal vomit, have a good night!” Stiles said cheerily. Watching as HCM’s mouth quirked. Was that an almost-smile? He felt kind of proud of that reaction. HCM nodded at that and turned to leave.

On his way out the door, Stiles saw the logo on the back of his high-vis vest. It read ‘Hale Construction Co.’ with a three brick logo. He’d never heard of that company before, but he was relatively new to L.A. so maybe it wasn’t a big company. With another little ring of the doorbell, Stiles watched HCM walk towards a large black Chevy truck at the third pump. It wasn’t a new model by any means, but looked as though it was very well cared for, it was clean and free of rust.

Like clockwork, the college girls all came bursting in at two o’clock. They mostly bought cookies, chips, and the occasional energy drink. Like a Red Bull was going to sober up any of these girls, they were well smashed when they arrived. He tried not to be upset about the mess they made at the one table they had towards the front. It was just plastic seating so it would be easy enough to clean up. He talked trash with them, intermittently sweeping up just to let them know that, yes, someone did have to clean up the mess they made. They all apologized profusely and tried to be more careful with their snacks. The nice thing about drunk girls was that they were usually pretty nice, especially to someone as chatty as Stiles. He must have seemed pretty trustworthy because they were all very forthcoming with him about all of their hot gossip about boys and such. After a while they got tired as the alcohol wore off and Stiles made sure they all got a cab ride home.

The rest of the night was quiet and boring. Stiles leaned against the counter again and let himself doze off. Waking up for the few customers that came through, mostly random construction workers(none as hot as HCM) and other drunk people. 

When the morning shift workers came through Stiles thanked the gods and drove back to his apartment in his Jeep. The car was one of the most prized possessions Stiles had taken with him to the city. Sleep couldn’t come soon enough and he passed out on top of his comforter, work clothes still on.


	2. old crow, king of the lamp-post

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has read so far! We will have three chapters total, so do not worry, my friends.  
> Chapter titles come from the song "Evelyn" by Gregory Alan Isakov, go give it a listen, good shit.
> 
> This is unbeta'd!! All mistakes are mine and I accept there are mistakes!!
> 
> Once again, I do not own Teen Wolf nor do I own Gregory Alan Isakov's music, even it it's absolutely amazing.

The next night, Stiles tried not to get his hopes up in seeing the high-vis man again. Instead he spent the night systematically cleaning every glass surface of the gas ‘n sip. He swore the windows hadn’t been that clean since it last rained, maybe a month ago. L.A. isn't really known to have a high precipitation rate.

He fiddled with the radio. He usually kept it on the classic rock station, because that provided the most variety. The other stations seemed to play the same 6 songs on repeat, and if Stiles had to hear that Selena Gomez song one more time, he might tear out his own hair. And he was proud of his hair now! He had grown it out from highschool and it was kind of hipster-chic-Harry-Potter-esque now.

Around midnight he started to stare out the front window of the store. He could see the glow of the street lights flicker, but no other movement really caught his eye. After a while a giant ass crow came sweeping down to land on a lamppost on the corner of the lot. Stiles watched until it turned its head towards the gas station. It kind of seemed like it was watching Stiles. _Creepy, that’s what that is_ , he thought to himself. Stiles shuddered and turned away, hoping the crow would stop looking at him. He didn’t really like birds all that much.

Stiles distracted himself by brewing a new batch of coffee. He told himself that it wasn’t for HCM, because the man had come in around that time the night before, but he couldn’t really kid himself. When Stiles had a crush (interest? fancy? infatuation?) he fell _hard_. Case in point, Lydia Martin all through high school. He didn’t know why he was like that. Maybe it was the ADHD or being alone for so long in his formative years, but he always searched for that fairytale romance. He wanted someone to want him, just as much as he wanted them. 

Before he could get too far into his own head thinking about this, the bell rang. Stiles tried not to get too excited as he looked up and made eye contact with HCM. Trying not to open his mouth again and embarrass himself, Stiles just lifted a hand and did a little wave. 

_Way to go_ , he thought to himself, _not weird at all_. There were no right decisions here. Stiles was kind of a social mess, but he was going to own it, okay? No use in delaying the inevitable tangents his mind(and mouth) went on.

HCM came back to the counter with his cup of coffee. After ringing him up and giving him back his card, Stiles didn’t try to stop himself from saying what was on his mind. “I like your car.” Stiles rushed out, and HCM’s eyebrows started to climb, _nice_ , “I mean the truck. It’s a Chevy Silverado, right? Probably late 90’s but it looks almost new. You must take really good care of it.” HCM nodded once. “I have an old car too, not that I’d say that to her face, very rude.” HCM huffed an almost-laugh and the amused look on his face was definitely worth it. “She’s a baby blue 1980 CJ-5 Jeep. You can’t see her from here, she’s parked out back. But that’s my baby. I call her Roscoe. She’s got me through many tough situations, very dependable.”

“I’m glad you have Roscoe.” HCM said amusedly, when he knew Stiles was done talking. And then a little quieter he said, “Thanks for the coffee.” Stiles nodded and smiled at him before HCM turned and headed back out the door, the bell ringing sharply as the door closed.

When HCM left, something dawned on Stiles, it had looked as though HCM had gotten his hair cut and his beard trimmed. It wasn’t curling over his ears anymore, under the dodgers cap. Stiles kind of liked the scruffy look, but he wasn’t complaining. At least he hadn’t fully noticed that while HCM was in front of him. Stiles was sure that saying, “Nice haircut!” to a guy you’d known for like 24 hours probably wasn’t the most normal thing to do.

Around 2, the drunk college girls came back to the gas ‘n sip for snacks. Stiles sat on the counter across from the girls, this time. They were being very careful not to make a huge mess for him, and he appreciated that greatly. Stiles tried to talk to them about what school they went to and their studies and such, but had very little luck. The girls were mostly interested in talking about all the guys they had danced with or talked to at the bar. 

He thought it was interesting that none of them had gone home with said guys, but he didn’t want to ask. Stiles could kind of see where they were coming from, though. When he was in high school and college and still going to clubs, he had nights where he didn’t want to go home with anyone either. Especially in high school when he went to the Jungle, he mostly just danced with anyone he could. He didn’t want to incur his father's wrath by leaving the premises with anyone he didn’t already know, especially when he was still underage. College had been a little bit different, though. Stiles had a lot of different flings with people he’d met at the gay club closest to campus. But still, Stiles could understand why the girls liked hanging out with each other at the end of the night, instead of with some relative stranger.

Like the night before the girls got tired after a while, and Stiles made sure they all got in their respective cabs to take them home. For the rest of the night he entertained himself by making a caricature of HCM’s truck. He drew the car with a little Dodgers baseball cap on top of the cab. It was kind of funny to Stiles to imagine how the car would act if it could talk. He really needed to bring a book to these shifts or something, he was going to drive himself crazy. 

Periodically Stiles would look outside and check to see if the crow was still there, staring at him. The answer was always yes and it made Stiles more and more uneasy with every glance.

The morning shift workers came in at 5:45 and Stiles got out of the gas station as soon as he could, avoiding eye contact with the crow. He was able to shower and actually put his uniform in the hamper before falling asleep that night, though. So maybe he was getting used to the late nights, or the crow was just keying him up just enough that the adrenaline was lasting until he got home. He didn’t want to think about that.

The rest of the nights that week went very similarly. HCM came through around half past midnight, they would exchange hello’s, he would buy a coffee, and Stiles talked at him for a few minutes about whatever subject was on his mind; local road construction, the merits of lacrosse vs. basketball(this subject made HCM say he liked basketball better), the futility of a college degree and Stiles’ perpetual lack of decent employment. After these tangents, HCM would nod at him, give a slight smile, say goodbye, and then head out the door, leaving Stiles to obsess over every detail of the interaction until the college girls came in for their snacks and gossip. All the while, Stiles avoided thinking about or looking at the crow.

He could live with this. As long as HCM kept coming through, he wouldn’t have to think too much about the crow. And their little conversations were getting better and better. He kind of liked that HCM didn’t say much, his eyebrows usually did the most of the talking. It was cute. 

But if he was being honest, HCM got more and more verbal as the nights went on. He was adding his own opinions to Stiles assertions, and he actually had quite a few good things to say. Like that Stiles should start an online portfolio in order to showcase his graphic design work. Maybe companies would start to reach out to him if he got enough hits on the website. It seemed like a decent enough idea and Stiles decided to look into it the next time he was both home and conscious. That night was the most they’d ever talked. Actual conversation, replies other than eyebrows, and not just a verbal barrage on Stiles’ part: talking.

The next night, Stiles decided to talk about his animosity towards the crow that hung around the lamppost. 

“Are you scared of a crow?” HCM asked. It was more of a statement than a question, really.

“It fucking stares at me for hours, dude!” Stiles defended himself.

“Don’t call me dude.” HCM deadpanned, “It can’t hurt you. You’re _inside_.”

“Well, sometimes I go _outside_ to do things, okay?”

“Like what. I’ve never seen you go outside of this building, ever.”

“I’m just saying… I don’t know... It fucking _stares_ at me all the time and I don’t like it!” Stiles flailed his arms for effect, hitting a rack of BIC lighters. Before they could fall, HCM tipped the rack back up with one tan hand and a sardonic eyebrow raise. Stiles ignored the eyebrow and mumbled, “Thanks.”

After a little more ranting about the crow, HCM had to leave and so Stiles sadly waved goodbye. He resigned himself to another night hiding behind the counter from the crow, until the college girls came by. He could use their carefree shenanigans right about now. 

For the first time in a while, Stiles decided to buy himself some snacks and an energy drink. Fight the uneasiness with junk food and sugar, that was his go-to high school method when he was feeling down. Maybe it would work today. He was able to distract himself with the snacks and a sudoku he found in an old newspaper and silently cheered when the college girls came through. He never thought he would appreciate their company as much as he did.

That night when he got home he had a hard time sleeping. He kept thinking about the crow that was waiting for him the next day at work. He was going to have to do something about that. He pondered the idea of calling up his dad and asking him to shoot it. Stiles was a pretty good shot himself(cop’s kid and all that), but he didn’t own a firearm, and also didn’t want to get arrested for shooting a bird in the middle of the night. He shut that idea down quickly, though, when he thought about the disapproving look his father would give him if Stiles said he was scared shitless by a crow. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed about the crow swooping down and hitting the front window of the gas station. It wasn’t a very restful night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! I have one more chapter written and will update soon!


	3. everything just found their place it seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, y'all!! Chapter 3!! 
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed the story so far and that this is a satisfying conclusion!!
> 
> Again, I don't own Teen Wolf or Gregory Alan Isakov's music, even though it's all amazing.
> 
> This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine and I accept that there are mistakes!!

On Stiles' next shift, he found himself dozing off at the register, again. The radio was playing an old folk song. There wasn’t a very high quality audio system at the gas ‘n sip, so it was sounding a little thin. In conjunction with the crow’s constant looming, it was a pretty haunting scene. Stiles needed to do something about that damn crow before he turned himself hysterical.

“I can get rid of it for you if you want.” HCM said instead of a greeting that night. Stiles was actively avoiding looking out the front window at this point. The staring crow was getting creepier and creepier as the days went on.

“Get rid of what?” Stiles asked, not really surprised HCM had forgone pleasantries. As much as they’d been talking, he was still kind of a blunt, straightforward guy.

“The crow.” HCM said, looking down. Was he _nervous_?! It was a cute look on him, if Stiles was being honest.

“You could do that for me?!” Stiles all but whined at him, leaning forward on the counter. HCM went to go get his nightly coffee as Stiles continued, “That...That _thing_! It’s been terrorizing me all week and if you could get rid of it, I’d _so_ be in your debt. Like free coffee forever kind of debt. I’m serious.” He gestured at the cup of coffee HCM had placed on the counter for emphasis

“Yeah, I can… do that for you.” HCM said, emphasizing the statement at a weird spot.

“Wait, what are you gonna do? You’re not gonna kill it are you?” Stiles asked, “Not that I’m super adverse to killing it. I really fucking hate that crow. But I feel like there’s probably an alternative.”

“No, I’m not gonna kill it. Just scare it a little.” HCM replied, mouth quirked up in a half smile. His eyes were glinting mischievously, the green-gold shined under the fluorescents. 

“Okay, okay. Thank you so much.” Stiles said, placing his hands flat on the counter so he could lean forward a little more without falling, “I really owe you. You’re my hero in high-vis!”

HCM ducked his head a little at that, and was he _blushing_? Wow, Stiles was getting the jackpot of HCM interactions, tonight. The man raised his coffee cup in a small “cheers” gesture before heading towards the door. As the bell rang and he stepped outside, Stiles called out another, “Thank you!”

Stiles watched as HCM walked towards the crow outside. HCM looked around, almost as if to check if anyone was watching(there was no one around it was like 1 in the morning) and then stretched his neck out and jerked his face towards the crow. With one loud caw it quickly flew away from the post. 

Stiles wondered what he did to finally scare it away. HCM stretched his neck and then turned back to the gas station and nodded at Stiles, who waived appreciatively, before climbing into his truck and heading out.

Stiles was curious, though, so he turned to the security camera monitors behind the counter. He was able to rewind the outdoor camera back a minute to see how HCM had scared the crow. At first when he pressed play, he just saw HCM shake his head, but then something happened to the monitor. There was a glowing spot where Derek’s face was, like a lens flare of some sort. When he shook his head the second time, it went back to normal and he could see his face. 

Stiles’ blood froze. It was almost like… Almost like the lens flares that happened whenever he tried to take photos of Scott when he was turned. Huh. So HCM was actually a werewolf. 

Oh no. That meant he could sense all of Stiles’ reactions to him! He knew how flustered he got and how he found him attractive! Curse werewolf senses! 

He thought that he was done with that supernatural bullshit after leaving Beacon Hills, and subsequently his resident werewolf best friend Scott McCall. 

Scott had been bitten by some crazy rogue alpha that was passing through town their sophomore year of highschool. Stiles had to be the one to research all of his crazy symptoms and he diagnosed him with lycanthropy. It hadn’t gone down well, Scott thought he was crazy, but after the first full moon and a whole bunch of new scars on Stiles’ body, they agreed it was real. After a year or two, they had figured out a system to keep each other safe during the full moon and to help calm Scott down when he got a little hairy. It was mostly just meditation, but Stiles was proud of his bro(and himself if he was being honest). 

High school was just a supernatural blur to him. But whatever, Stiles thought that he was going to be able to avoid all that werewolf business out here in L.A. It wasn’t really the best place to be a wolf, with all the smells and sounds that came with city life, but apparently HCM didn’t care. Maybe Hale Construction Co. paid really well or something.

Besides the perceptive senses, Stiles kind of liked werewolf HCM . He was probably super adorable with the sideburns and fangs… Should he say something next time he saw him? Like “Hey, I know you’re a werewolf! But don’t worry, my best friend is one too!” Nope. That was probably a bad idea. It was crazy that Stiles knew that this guy was a werewolf before he even knew his fucking name.

There. Stiles knew what he was going to say next time they saw each other. He was finally going to introduce himself, and hopefully get HCM’s name in return. He had felt kind of bad that they had been talking for so long, but he was still calling him Hot Construction Man in his head. Stiles hadn’t needed to objectify HCM’s body anymore, he knew the man well enough that he could also objectify his caring personality and snarky responses! It would be best to actually know the man’s name, though. So Stiles was going to hold himself to this decision, by the time he finished his night shift the next day, he was going to know HCM’s real name, damnit!

Pushing his nerves down(because HCM would be able to tell, goddamnit!) Stiles waited behind the counter, like usual. Tonight, the shift was going a lot slower than normal. He distracted himself with extra cleaning and restocking. He was in the middle of reshelving all of the perishable fruits they had in orderly pyramids, when the bell rang and Stiles startled so hard he knocked all of the oranges down. So much for orderly. He turned to see who it was, and felt a huge grin on his face when he saw it was his favorite wolfy construction worker.

“Hi,” Stiles said, lamely. The grin was still covering his face and he knew that HCM could probably smell the unbridled happiness Stiles felt at seeing him. He tried not to be too self conscious about that. 

“Hello,” HCM replied with his own slight smirk. Hopefully it was just a ‘I’m happy to see you, too’ smirk and not a ‘I can tell that you like me an embarrassingly large amount for a guy you just met like a week ago’ smirk. Stiles was going to assume it was the former, because he wasn’t in the self pity mood tonight.

“Thanks again for the crow! It didn’t come back, I think you scared it away for good. Hopefully…” Stiles said, trying not to make too strong of eye contact. He was going to pop a blood vessel in his face, he was probably blushing so hard. “Oh! And I wasn’t joking about the coffee, it’s on the house, for like, ever. I really owe you. You’ve saved me from a world of nightmares. That crow was creepy as fuck.”

HCM shook his head amusedly at this and went to get his daily cup of coffee. While he was doing that, Stiles started enacting his extremely well thought out(not) plan to learn HCM’s name.

“So. I feel as though we’ve known each other for a while now.” Stiles started and he saw one of HCM’s eyebrows rise. “You know my tragic career fails, I know you were a high school basketball star, and I think we’ve come to a point in our relationship where I can finally tell you my name. It’s kind of weird-”

“Stiles.” HCM interrupted, breathlessly. He was _laughing_! Rude!

“No! Let me get through this! It’s kind of weird, but my name is-”

“Stiles!” HCM said, a little more forcefully. He placed his cup on the counter and then started laughing wholeheartedly. He tipped his chin up and brought a hand to his chest, like a surprised housewife. He looked beautiful like this, his eyes glinting in amusement.

Stiles’ brain finally caught up with his ears, and he mouthed a little, “Oh…” Well, this was embarrassing… “Um. How do you know my name?”

HCM’s laughter died down and he cleared his throat before saying, “You wear a nametag, Stiles.” He sounded a little breathless. Could werewolves get winded?

Stiles looked down, and sure enough, he was wearing a nametag. How could he forget he wore a nametag? He poked himself on the pin every day when he was trying to put it on his button up. He was an idiot. He sighed before saying, “Well, you know my name, but I don’t know yours. There.” HCM looked at him for a second and then tilted his head, kind of like a confused dog.

“Stiles, are you telling me that I’ve handed you my credit card every day for almost a week, and you didn’t once think to check the name on it?” HCM said. He was being a sassy little shit today, wasn’t he. “I’m rethinking all of the assumptions I made about your intelligence up to now,” HCM finished off, shaking his head.

Stiles felt himself blush even more, if that was at all possible. He couldn’t believe himself. And he had thought he was an observant person. Stiles mentally argued burying his head in the oranges on the shelf, but decided on just hiding his face behind his hands and groaning. 

“I’m just teasing you, Stiles. I’ll tell you my name.” HCM sounded amused, but there was a hint of worry in his voice. Stiles lifted his head out of his hands and turned towards HCM and gave him a sardonic look. He hoped he didn’t look as ridiculous as he thought. He straightened up as HCM said, “My name’s Derek” 

“Derek,” Stiles said, testing the name in his mouth. At that, Derek’s face softened a bit and he smiled. Fuck it. Stiles continued on a whim, “Well, now I don’t have to call you Hot Construction Man in my head anymore.”

It was Derek’s turn to blush profusely and for Stiles to laugh. 

“You were calling me _what_?!” Derek coughed out.

“Hot Construction Man. It’s a very accurate moniker, I’ll have you know.” Stiles said, matter of factly. “And while we’re on this little bout of honesty, I want to let you know that I saw how you scared the crow yesterday and that I-uh- know that you have a ‘furry little problem.’” Derek froze, the amusement falling off his face and Stiles was quick to talk him down, “No, no, no, it’s fine, I’m not gonna say anything or do anything.” Stiles waved his hands in his best ‘it’s not what you think’ gesture and explained, “My best friend back home had the same proclivity for howling at the moon. It’s chill.”

“Oh. Okay…” Derek said, a little unsure, “In the past I haven’t had the best luck with humans knowing about my ‘proclivity’ so I-uh-I’m sorry if I’m a little wary.”

“It’s fine, I totally get it. We had a few run-ins with hunters back in Beacon Hills, so I totally understand. They were _not_ fun humans.” Stiles said, shaking his head and marking the look of surprise on Derek’s face.

“Beacon Hills, you say?’ Derek asked.

“Mmmhmm, yeah. You know it? Little town in NorCal?” Stiles responded, maybe a little too eagerly.

“Yeah, I know it. I grew up there.” Derek said and did _not_ sound as happy as Stiles about it. 

“Wait, what!? You’re joking. That’s crazy!” Stiles gaped at him. “So you played for the Beacon Hills basketball team? What’s your last name, maybe I know of you or your family!”

“Hale,” Derek said, “But I doubt you knew me or my family. At least not personally”

Stiles looked at him questioningly before he connected the dots. Hale family. Like the Hale family that all died in a fire when he was in middle school. Stiles blanched, “I-I’m really sorry… and I’m sorry I brought it up. I doubt Beacon Hills holds a lot of great memories for you. I mean, I know _I_ left for a reason too.”

Derek waved his hand, “It’s fine. You didn’t know. Ask me a few years ago and I might’ve bit your head off, but I’m better about it now.” Derek paused for a second and continued, “Hmm. It’s my turn to ask _your_ last name,” like Stiles didn’t just remind him of his family member’s gruesome deaths. 

“Stillinski,” Stiles supplied, ready to leave the subject of the Hale family fire behind in the conversation. 

“Like the Sheriff?” Derek questioned, and Stiles huffed out a laugh. That’s what people always said when they learned his name. 

“Yeah, like the Sheriff,” Stiles said, nodding, “Good ole pops. Keeping the peace in Beacon Hills.”

“I met him a few times when I lived there. He’s a nice guy,” Derek said thoughtfully. 

“He is, isn’t he,” Stiles replied before realizing, “Hey, wait, why did you have to meet my dad? Were you a delinquent of some sort? I mean, I know _I_ was. How many times my dad threatened to lock me up before I left for college, I don’t even know.” Stiles shook his head at himself.

“No, no, nothing like that,” said Derek, “He just helped my sister and I out after the fire.”

And once again Stiles had totally ruined the mood. “Ugh, I’m sorry I keep bringing it up, I’m the worst.” Stiles groaned into his hand.

“It’s not your fault, Stiles. It just seems to happen whenever Beacon Hills is involved in the conversation.”

“Okay, well no more talk of Beacon Hills, then!” Stiles said with renewed energy, “So you own your own construction company now?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, a little sheepish, “it’s not a very interesting occupation, but yeah.”

“You’re talking to _me_ , dude. I work at a gas station,” Stiles joked and checked his watch. Damn. “Not that I don’t love talking to you, which I do, I love talking to you, but don’t you have to go? You usually leave by at least 12:50. Or around that time…” Stiles tried not to sound like he was cataloguing Derek’s visits so thoroughly. 

“You’re right,” Derek said, “I guess I do usually leave around then...Thanks for the coffee and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stiles smiled and nodded, “Yeah, tomorrow.”

Derek turned to the door but then paused for a second and turned around back towards Stiles. “So, Hot Construction Man?” Derek said slowly, questioning and Stiles died inside a little.

“Ugh, I thought we went over this, _Derek Hale_ ,” Stiles emphasized his name, “It’s an accurate moniker.”

“Okay, _Stiles Stillinski_ ,” Derek snapped back in the same tone, but then his face fell a little and he said in a more serious voice, “Would you-um-possibly want to get a coffee with me?”

“You just got a coffee?”

“I mean a _date_ , Stiles. Would you like to go on a coffee _date._ ”

Stiles’ heart jumped for a second and he knew Derek could hear it, because his lip quirked. He was being asked out by Derek Hale the Hot Construction Man. What the hell?!

When he could trust his voice not to shake Stiles said, “Yes, I would love to. My shift ends at 6, could we get breakfast? At the diner down on 1st?”

“Sounds like a date.” Derek smiled at him and then turned to head back out the door again, the bell chiming brightly as he walked out to his car.

Stiles could not believe the turn of events. Derek had just asked him out and they were going to get breakfast after his shift. Maybe the night shift was worth it, after all… He couldn’t wait to tell the college girls about his upcoming date. He was so excited. Everything had just found their place, it seemed.

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> There's a little thing that I was thinking about that I couldn't really slip in there, but YES, Derek did get a haircut and stuff to try and impress Stiles!   
> Also, Laura and Derek made Hale Construction Co. with the insurance money. They specialize in house modifications for supernatural creatures; soundproofing and air filtration for werewolves and wall reinforcing/panic rooms for full moons, as well as a few humans on payroll to install mountain ash floorboards.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I am incredibly new to the writing side of ao3 and any feedback would be lovely! I'm not afraid of criticism (at least not yet haha) so go for it!


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